Ivy Leaves Journal of Literature and Art — Vol. 53

Page 1


Digitized by the Internet Archive in

Lyrasis

2011 with funding from

Members and Sloan Foundation

http://www.archive.org/details/ivyleaves1975caro


1975 anderson college

editor

-

literary

carol sigman

magazine

anderson, south Carolina

faculty advisor

-

william

f.

west

anne bishop, susan brooks, phyllis chafin, melanie edmunds, mary lou junkins, sharon kemp, susan kiger, beverly knott, steve lewis, pam matthews, pat raper, james tallent, jean welborn • •

staff

-


L

DAWNS BREAKING With skulking

stillness the blazing

god quietly

gathers his troops.

From

the illuminate concave, brightly clad soldiers

inspect the global curtain.

Under the watchful eye of the nocturnal magician. The onlookers distill a black passionate rage. The death-dull domain flickers as twinkling powders are slung from large, outstretched, malice-stained hands.

The

silent crystals are the call to order, as

ground

battalion's decoying orthopteron signals prepare

for the ritual battle.

A

horror clumps in the throat of the uninformed

witnesses.

dim light invades. The dark creatures attempt to shield away the oncoming predator. But too many have been captured, and forced to labor away

In the distance a

at daily duties.

Others, with shriek-formed faces flee, unaware that they, too, are destined.

A victory

is assured, but the crude, beguiling orb isn't through. Within soundless seconds the bubble erupts. belching brightly tinted torchlights across the

weary

battlefield.

The worn

are lulled into false security as dreary-eyed. they gaze at the rainbow-streaked heavens.

Susan Alewine


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—

I

knocked twice, then three times

knock, knock, knock, knock-

no one answered

The

radio

blared from within the house

and still

What I

heard laughter-

I

no one came

is

this?

thought to myself as

pounded

fiercely

I

on the door-

no reply

Open I

up!

was screaming, and the red stuff oozed from my sore knuckles-

silence

Tears gushed as

I

fell

to the floor

still clawing the wooden doornothing

Never before had she not answered the door and three years was not so longstillness

Ripping the boards from the windows I smashed the glass and crawled insidedead silence

Running I

upstairs

finally

where

found her I

knew

in her

room

she would be-

just like before

Steve Lewis


Emptiness Emptiness

is

A

meows

sitting alone

on

a hot

summer

evening;

thunder roars from afar; All is still but moving, the autos seem unending; A flower half alive half wilted adds to this empty pathos; Summer's nearly over but emptiness lives on forever; The sky is overshadowed as life squanders to its hearth; Thoughts of time are so vain but time is never ending; Rain sprinkles down to enfold the evening; Thunder and lighting hurtles from the heavens; Emptiness, for all the world is expressionless. cat bird

in the forest,

Mike McGuire


"The clouds!"

And who I

are

you

that,

wanting you,

as

she exclaimed her eyes grew too-wide

in

sudden

Her mind

should be kept awake

As many nights

terror.

quickly recalled

as there are

days

that Kansas afternoon

now twenty

With crying for your sake?

years

in history

And who are you that, On many days crawl

missing you.

Vivid recollections

I

should be listening to the wind And looking at the wall?

of

I

a

sudden

darkness, followed

know men who are brave men And many of that kind. And who are you, that you should The one man on my mind?

by the longest minutes of her

I

life,

be

cowering under a small tree as she

Yet women's ways are witless ways,

And some men And who am 1,

will tell.

that

So wisely and so

1

should love

well'.'

watched

her whole life disappear in a whirling mass of jagged clapboards

and uprooted

trees.

Kiddle Woodward I

held her frail

trembling body

my

close to

own,

feeling the heaving

sobs; the

hot tears

SONNET The poets of renown composed

my

now

winced

Stephen Mattison

at the

I

sound

of the

lines to

Pay tribute to the women they did love. This prompts my feeble bid to reckon you With The Virtue of one come from Above. Cursed death has no silence that can compare With hush when your voice-harked ear can not hear, Nor loneliness, nor solitude, despair When your smile sensuous does not appear. No height can match the height of joy, so strong That I feel with your most sweet gentle touch These are but preludes to a siren's song. A song sung when young passioned lovers clutch. But since thou will not my love truly be, My heart aches each trice, and eternity.

soaking

shirt as

ear-piercing

screams

As the clouds passed over the heaving began to subside, the sobs turning to soft sighs.

She regained her composure just as my hour ended and planting a soft kiss

on

my

forehead

she smiled

and went back inside.

Steve Lewis


DAYBREAK The day whispers newly as it begins to break And wonders what new beginning it can create

You

never

know how

the day will begin

Or what kind of package

it

will

be

in.

sun rise in its brightest glow Showing all the beauty it had to show Never once thinking of rain or cold Radiating its shine and heat so bold. I've seen the

It often rises with a dark gloomy cover and clouds about it seem to hover Often it appears to wear a frown on its face With rain drops falling as if in a race.

Some days have begun

with many a torment sky the sun it has sent To cheer and comfort all the world's congregation When day breaks the sun is a nice confrontation.

But

still

in the

Pat Raper

did you say you loved me when you knew that from the start

Why

would get all excited and be broken-hearted before you depart. You said you would always be therebut where have you gone? All of a sudden the room is bare and it is almost dawn. All my dreams of tomorrow have all become yesteryear because I'm left with sorrow for something I held dear. I

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The

kVÂŤ|SI>?l Trial of the Rapist

*

*With apologies to Alexander Pope

When

on

dire injustice

a

maiden

fair

done, and causes loss of lock of hair. Because a gent himself could not control And so, Belinda's curling lock he stole, Then voices of the gods cry out as one For speedy trial, and justice to be done. The courtroom filled, the jury took its place. Belinda walked in with a tear-stained face. The judge entered; the perpetrator rose; And sweet Belinda blew her dainty nose. "You're charged with a most heinous crime indeed," The Judge commented. "Now how do you plead?" The lawyer spoke, "Tis mercy we demand. Let us review the facts which are at hand. Belinda fixed herself the men to please. Is

what the barroom boys would

She's

call a tease."

"Objection!" shouted Prosecutor Kocks. "She's not on trial here-nor her curly locks." "I beg your pardon," argued Sir Saint Klaire, "But what's on trial here, if it's not her hair? I aim to prove with my client she flirted, And therefore, with her own destruction skirted." "That, Sir Saint Klaire, I won't advise to try; " I'll put her on the stand and she'll deny "I've had about enough of both of ya'll," The Judge exulted in a Southern drawl. "I'd like to get back to the trial somehow!" His anger showed through, in his flutt'ring brow. "If I'll

you don't state your client's plea tonight, him 20 years, just out of spite!"

give

"Yes,

sir." said

"And

I'll

Saint Klaire, and approached the bench,

not say one word about the wench.

Insanity's the plea we'll enter

in.

Temporary though it may have been." The Prosecutor laughed aloud at this

And

told his client,

If that's

A

full

what

conviction

Saint Klaire "I ask

"Do not

worry. Miss.

his defense shall be based on.

now

you now.

is

as

good

as

done."

started to present his case. is

this a rapist's face?

An

honest gent, of solid reputation, Whose only crime is one of adoration. It

was the

girl's

own

foolish vanity

10


Which caused the

A

loss

of this man's sanity.

case of clear flirtatiousness

it is.

Therefore, the guilt of crime is hers-not his. She should be glad we'll cop a plea for less And charge her not, instead, with wantonness." The Prosecutor to the bench did stride,

And

"Your Honor, now

said,

we'll tell our side.

'Tis true Belinda's quite a pretty girl,

And

possibly upon her silky curl She places more importance than is due; And vain? Well, that perhaps is also true. But it is true that we all have our faults,

And this is no way justifies assaults. Do murderers walk freely out the gate Because the men they robbed have plenty more? Of course not! And do not the people trust The jurors to reach verdicts that are just? Based on the facts presented-that alone;

And

not the character of any one."

The jurors

rose and left in single

file,

Returning after quite a lengthy while. The foreman rose and cleared his throat for speech, " 'Guilty as charged'

we finally did reach." Kocks and Belinda yelped with sheer delight. Saint Klaire said, "Don't y'all, think you'd better There's sentencing to do before we split. Both of y'all two boys did mighty fine, But

And

now

the big decision

is all

mine.

tough one for to make it is. For is the guilt of crime all hers-or his? His yearns he should have had the sense to halt. But she herself is not without some fault. Therefore my sentence shall be but two years, Which is the minimum in crimes with shears." Saint Klaire spoke up, "I intend to appeal. I

such

a

can't believe this jury

So we

And

shall

now

is

for real.

proceed straight to the top.

at the Capital shall this case stop."

He paused

for drama, and then carried on,

The Pard'ner in before we're done." "The Pardoner? His Majesty you mean?" Kocks shouted and began to turn pale green. "We'll bring

"Why not?"

said Klaire.

"My

client

is

no worse

Than countless others saved by Ford the

First."

Cathy Thrift

11

sit?


DIMENSIONS They

said

the bullet glanced off

Phantom wordsWords that I hold

my

in

my

rib

but cannot write.

and so they say

Comforting

will

I

live,

illusions that exist

in a separate dimension.

but

Parallel,

they are not so smart because

Side by side are soul and body, it be that emotions and words are, too? Stretched together in sentences as are

Can

tonight I

the hours of our

will

they are

try again, this I

hand

and

lives,

real.

Which

is

the better world?

time

shall

David Capps

succeed.

Steve Lewis

The distinctive odor of the canals drifted like a ghost through the square. Tourists, preoccupied with feeding the pigeons, were unaware of the faint smell of sewage which surrounded them. There were distractions from all sides as vendors in threaty voices called out their wares. In the distance the mosaic-encrusted St. Mark's Cathedral cast a short shadow indicating it was noontime. Visitors, dressed in casual clothes, picked their way carefully from the cathedral toward the sidewalk cafes. The uneven pavement caused by the sinking of the city, made walking a difficult task. The busy lunch trade made the waiters hurry as the orchestras began slowly to strum romantic songs. Wine bottles emptied as waltzes seranaded the diners. An atmosphere of overcame the square. in the bell tower sounded twice and thus signaled a mass closing of the shops the natives prepared for their siesta hours. All was quiet in the square where only a few

lazy sleepiness

The gong

as

scattered tourists remained.

The afternoon passed in slow dullness. The few who braved the canals had the city to who had remained stood listening to the faint chanting of the monks which echoed from a nearby island. The square underwent its final metamorphosis of the day when the gong struck five times. Stores reopened, crowds assembled, and an orchestra began a slow rendition of "The Blue Danube." Ladies attired in ankle length dresses were a contrast to others dressed less themselves. Others

formally.

where a festive mood prevailed. With great cereon the granite colonnades. The feeling of having stepped into a World War II movie made one feel as if time had stood still. This was Venice.

Dusk

mony

settled over St. Mark's Square

the torches were

lit

Jean Welborn

12


Wake

my

up,

friend

and greet the early morning freshness as

it falls

softly across

the awakening earth.

Stretch and wipe your sleep-filled eyes.

A new for

beginning has begun

you

for

me

and the world. Daybreak. In the early morning we will frolic— you and I in the sweet-smelling innocence dreading the end of day.

Noontime catches us Jn the midst of our playful dreams. Those morning hours are much too Too soon the day will end. ttihg iti

on

a park

short,

bench

the late afternoon

tfÂŁ

and talk

until the darkness

enshrouds

Silhoutted by the

moon we

us.

stare

blankly

I

as

we dream dreams

of yesterdays and tomorrows.

The evening shadows begin to fall, Too soon the day has come to an end. Nightfall

Drifting into the horrid darkness,

You I

I

U ,

disappear.

call

and

call again.

|Frantically-I shout " ho answer. "Step back with old man, time, it's now the end of day.

my

friend

Carol Sigman

13


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MY LOVE How

can'st our love last,

For thou lovest thyself more. Thou art one whose heart on butterfly's wings flitters away at prettier ones. Thy soul is't sour like

year old milk.

said trouble breedeth in fools; then thou art a carrier for potential plagues. Like trees that breedeth bugs, which in turn devour in circles the soul till death occurs. The earth, too, rotates though not in circles but spherical as do electrons It is

in their

various orbits around their controlling

nucleus.

Thy sweet nothings whispered

in ear

are like boisterous burps,

neither are pleasant, yet latter

When moonbeams fire

lights fade

is

more soothing

to the system.

dim,

spotlight our lips in close connection; a smouldering

kindles within

my

breast.

And

lasts

till

long in evening;

me

thinks 'tis heartburn, for thy lips and mouth possess large samples of Spanish meals gone by.

Thou mayest not have a dream, but neither art thou much of one. Where open spaces lack in appeal.

are attractive to city bred, in teeth they

When

my

as latter

lover lounges

tongue sliding through gaps

Thy

fickle love

For neither

is

day lovers seranaded by by lantern, with

like

is

starlight,

trombones-whistling songs unknown.

like "baggies,"

airtight.

Where one concerns alibis, the other messy drippings; which

serves as a container for in

thinking, both concern thou for thou art very

much

a drip.

Rain clouds are gray and dull and so is thy presence, for both are capable of spoiling a good day. But then clouds, through rain on parched lands, can bring satisfaction, where thy presence rarely does.

reminds

me

Flowers rise up in peculiar places from hard winds blowing, which of thee, for thou are very much a blow hard. Diamonds tell of long lasting love, but what does glass profess?

Sunrays on lover's rings bring tears to the eyes; money, too, shines and brings on tears, but only when there is none. Green grass and heavily fragrant flowers in snow are as common as diamonds, money, and thee.

As polished silver glows in darkened rooms, and pleasant breezes relax noon day meals in deserts. And as trees will rise from worm fed acorns, our love, too, is

sure to grow.

Susan Alewine

15


governed the literary magazine in previous years which is revealed through the design and name of the magazine "ivy leaves." consistency in tradition tends to hinder the imagination, relating to a changing world is difficult unless we ourselves face •

tradition

has

changes happen everyday

changes,

all

around

us,

and

even anderson college has responded to these changes, we, the magazine

staff,

felt it

necessary to change the

name of the magazine so we sought we found it in "sun and shadow."

photos page

7

• •

alan stoddard, pages

of

'7

2),

new outlook and

james plowden,

mary shooter, page 5 • dirk wood, cover photo by mickey saunders (ac class

drawings

pages 8-9,14

3,13

a

submitted by steve lewis

16




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